IN FOG EVERYTHING IS THE GHOST OF ITSELF...SO IT IS.
Alas, poor Scrooge!
I knew him
a fellow of infinite jest
a lover
of all things Christmas.
Why, he wouldn't say
boo to a ghost.
The kindest, caringest
loving loan shark
in all of this here
dreary town.
Kept me going
through hard times
even though my life
was only
rust & dust
rust & dust.
'People mutht be
amuthed! '
he'd always say
in a Sleary way
Wot happened
to the old geezer?
Why there is not a body
doesn't know dat?
Ended up Marshallsea
Debtor's prison
along with old
John Dickens.
Ya know
Charlie's father.
For want of
an unpaid baker's bill
a good man
was lost
to his self
drove him mad
it did
so it did.
Now, that Marley
on the other hand
'ard as nails....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem